


You've Known It All Along

by speakpirate



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Rare Pair, Yvoncer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/pseuds/speakpirate
Summary: They say politics makes strange bedfellows.“It never stops,” Spencer whispers. “Never.”Yvonne freezes. “This isn’t just some political subterfuge, is it? This is part of what happened to you before.”





	You've Known It All Along

**Author's Note:**

> _Happy Pride Month! My goal for June is to take a lot of the partially complete stories that have been hanging around in my docs for ages and finish them. Because done is better than perfect and the world needs more femslash. Also, I am clearly a believer in the Indisputable Queerness of Spencer Hastings._
> 
> \----------------

The first time Spencer Hastings sees a photo of Yvonne, she isn’t flipping through a campaign dossier. She’s sneaking a look at the pictures on Caleb’s phone, while Caleb himself is in the restroom. Toby grinning and holding up a fish, the sunlight making the gills look like a rainbow. A video of Caleb haplessly trying to start a campfire. And then there she is, a gorgeous brunette with a million watt smile, feeding Toby a s’more.

She doesn’t bother apologizing when Caleb comes back to the table and catches her. “I thought you said she was, and I quote, ‘a snaggle-toothed hag.’”

Caleb gives her a wry smile as he pockets his phone. “And you tried to tell me that Jordan was a 5’2” hunchback. It’s part of the code, Spencer.”

“What’s she like?”

Caleb hesitates before he answers, sipping his water, adjusting the napkin on his lap. “She seems nice,” he offers. “But her laugh sounds just like Fran Drescher’s.”

\----

The first time Yvonne Phillips sees a picture of Spencer, she’s digging through Toby’s wallet, trying to rustle up enough actual cash for them to leave money on the table and not have to sit around for another twenty minutes hoping their incredibly slow club waiter will reappear with the check. 

She’s still staring at the picture when Toby returns to the table. He’s full of brusque apologies, but it was his boss on the phone, he needs to go in. 

Yvonne slips the picture out of the plastic, holds it between two fingers. Spencer Hastings is wearing a blue retro dress and a steely expression on her face. She mouth isn’t exactly smiling, her eyes are cautious and watchful. She looks like someone who might be about to kiss you, or possibly pull a knife out of her boot and stab you to death. 

“You shouldn’t be carrying this around,” Yvonne says, a teasing note in her voice. 

Toby shrugs, barely paying attention as he scans the room for the long lost server. Yvonne twirls the picture between her fingers, puts it in her own wallet after Toby’s gone.

\-----

It takes less than thirty seconds for Spencer to find Yvonne’s facebook page. She scrolls through her public photo albums, scans her status updates. Notes her favorite movies and books. 

It takes less than five minutes for her to find Yvonne’s blog, where she dishes on everything from fashion to politics to celebrity relationships and how much she hates Jonathan Franzen novels. Spencer reads every single entry, five years worth.

When Aria notices her checking Yvonne’s Instagram during lunch, she doesn’t approve.

“You’re repeating a bad pattern.”

“It’s different,” Spencer protests. “I’m not lurking outside the window in a black hoodie.”

“Is this about Toby?”

“No,” Spencer says, surprised at the realization that it’s the truth. She puts her phone away before Aria has a chance to ask what it is about, exactly. 

\----

Spencer Hastings has virtually no online presence, Yvonne discovers. A google search of her name comes up with four hits for the Dean’s List at Georgetown, a LinkedIn profile, and one hundred and sixty-two local news articles from the Rosewood Observer. Of these, three are sports coverage of the high school field hockey team and one is about the academic decathlon championship bowl. All the others are about kidnapping and murder. 

Yvonne knows better than to trust the press. She makes a copy of Toby’s keys one night after he’s asleep. She heads down to the station in a short skirt and gives Lorenzo a big smile. It’s absurdly easy to sneak into the archives, where they keep the old case files. Spencer’s is two inches thick. Yvonne reads the whole thing, brown manilla cover to cover. 

Barry Maple shakes his head when he comes in looking for a quiet place to eat his sandwich.

“Is this about Cavenaugh?” he asks incredulously.

“Did you know her?” Yvonne asks. “What’s she like?”

He takes a bite of his bologna sandwich, chews before he answers. “Between you and me? Imagine Margaret Thatcher as a teenage Catwoman. That’s Spencer Hastings.”

Yvonne can’t help herself. She really likes the sound of that. 

\----

Spencer’s half expecting Yvonne to be at the construction site for Toby’s house, she keeps waiting for her to appear from inside the trailer, drive up in her late model hybrid sedan.  
She doesn’t, of course. 

It’s just Toby and his determination to avoid meeting Spencer’s eyes as much as possible. 

She leaves feeling strangely disappointed.

\----

The first time they meet in person, Yvonne makes a mistake. She puts a hand out and opens with “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She hasn’t heard much of anything from Toby, who goes out and hammers things in a somewhat alarming way whenever her name comes up. But sometimes Caleb Rivers would tell stories about DC, and mention something he did with ‘a friend’ or ‘this girl’. The third time that he followed up one of these anecdotes with a guilt stricken glance at Toby, Yvonne had understood. The girl was Spencer. She paid much more attention after that.

\----

During the Town Hall, Spencer finds that she’s able to anticipate almost every answer that Yvonne gives. It might be because she’s spent so much time researching her. Or it could be that they’re the same as the answers Spencer would give herself.

\----

“Do you have Spencer’s number?” Yvonne asks her scheduler.

“Why?” Mona asks, raising her pointed eyebrows.

“Nevermind,” Yvonne says, breezily. “I wanted to thank her for doing the Town Hall.”

“The campaign will take care of it,” Mona assures her.

The next day, a lunch meeting with Spencer pops up on her phone.

\----

Lunch with Yvonne is one of the more enjoyable afternoons Spencer has had since she came back to Rosewood. 

Good conversation. No arrest warrants.

At one point her foot knocks against Yvonne’s under the table.  
She wasn’t expecting to feel a jolt at the contact.

She wonders if Yvonne felt it, too. 

She seems flustered and leaves abruptly afterward.

So distracted that she left her phone behind.

Spencer doesn’t hesitate.

She runs out of the restaurant and catches Yvonne half a block away.

“You forgot this.”

\--------------------

Yvonne is at dinner with her mother. It’s tedious. 

She’s checking her phone every thirty seconds.

“Are you waiting for your young man to call? You’re being very rude,” her mother admonishes.

“No,” Yvonne says, putting the phone down. It’s not Toby she’s waiting for, actually. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

\------------------------

Spencer gets an anonymous text. 

_Quelle surprise._

It actually is a surprise, as there are medical records attached.

Yvonne’s medical records. 

Spencer deletes them, then calls Yvonne.

“We need to talk.”

\------------------------------

Yvonne’s car is parked on the outskirts of town. 

Spencer is sitting across from her in the front seat.

“My mom doesn’t even know,” Yvonne says.

“Maybe now would be a good time to tell her.”

“You really think someone would send it to the papers? Who would do that?”

“Not me. But if it’s out there…”

“I had a message, too,” Yvonne tells Spencer. “I saved it to show you.”

She unlocks her phone and hands it to Spencer. 

“Open the attachment.”

Spencer’s face goes white. 

“You guys might want to get ahead of this yourselves,” Yvonne suggests.

“She said she was in remission. She never mentioned another operation.”

“Oh god,” Yvonne says, her eyes going wide. “That’s not the secret.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry. I thought - I thought for sure you knew.”

“Knew what?” Spencer leans over, intense and unyielding.

“Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. Whatever it is, would you rather I find out when it’s splashed across the front page of the Rosewood Observer?”

Yvonne shakes her head. “Look at the blood types.”

Spencer’s jaw drops. “It’s a mistake. It has to be.”

“Maybe. But if it’s not -”

Spencer fights to keep her voice steady, even as her eyes fill with tears.

“Then she’s not my mother.”

\-----------------------------------------------

“Who’s doing this?” Yvonne demands, tossing her bag down on the couch in Spencer’s barn.

“I wish I knew,” Spencer says, hollowly.

“Did you see that blind item on the Rosewood Thorn’s site today?” She pulls out her phone, even though she’s read over it so many times she has every word memorized.

_Girls Gone Wild: Which local race could be upset at any moment by the antics of the younger generation? Fill up on the drama of one young lady locking lips with a gal pal on a topless beach, but don’t be hasty to judge - we hear the other comes to us fresh out of a court ordered stint in rehab! Like mother like daughter - are we ready for Spring Break at the Statehouse?_

“It’s a warning,” Spencer explains. “A nudge. To let us know what they know. Get one of us to make a move, burn the other before they set us both on fire.”

“This is not okay,” Yvonne protests. “How do they even know this stuff?”

“They know everything,” Spencer says, draining a glass of wine.

Yvonne’s expression changes to concern. “Should you be drinking right now?”

“It was pills,” Spencer offers. “It wasn’t exactly court ordered. I chose rehab so that my record would be expunged.”

“You’re clean now?”

“I am. Not that it’ll matter to voters. They’ll see an addict. They’ll see my - they’ll think Veronica is a bad mother.”

“Well, I’m right there with you. My mom’s whole brand is social conservative family values while her daughter is kissing girls and terminating a pregnancy.”

“You can pull the trigger first,” Spencer tells her. “Release whatever you want. Just give me a head start to write up a statement. Plan an exit strategy from the campaign.”

Yvonne doesn’t reject the offer outright. “Is that what you want? Have you talked to your parents?”

“I did,” Spencer confirms, swirling the wine around in her glass. “They weren’t exactly forthcoming, but I could see it in their eyes. With all the skeletons my family has stuffed in their closets, it must be pretty sordid if this is the secret they’re determined to keep.”

“Hey,” Yvonne says, putting a hand on Spencer’s knee. “They wanted you. They love you.”

Spencer pulls her legs up to her chest, wraps her arms around them tightly.

“Not enough to tell me the truth.”

Then she breaks down sobbing. Yvonne puts her arms around Spencer instinctively. She holds her tightly, rubbing small circles on her back. 

“It never stops,” Spencer chokes out. “Never.”

Yvonne freezes. “This isn’t just some political subterfuge, is it? This is part of what happened to you before.”

Spencer shakes her head, wiping at her eyes. “I can’t talk about it. No one can know. I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

“I’m not,” Yvonne tells her. “Spencer, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Spencer’s face is inches away from Yvonne’s. Yvonne can see a few tears still clinging to her eyelashes.

“Is it true?” Spencer asks, her voice a little hoarse from crying. “You made out with a girl on a topless beach?”

“Well,” Yvonne hedges. “We were topless and it was a beach, but it wasn’t - I thought we were alone.”

“You’re never alone,” Spencer whispers. But then she leans forward and kisses Yvonne, tangling her hands in her hair. Yvonne kisses her back fiercely, shifting their position so that she’s propped up on her knees, straddling Spencer’s lap. She feels her breasts heavy against Spencer’s as their movements become more frantic, Spencer’s hand working its way under her skirt.

Thirty minutes later, they’re stretched out naked in front of the fireplace, the full length of Spencer’s body pressing against Yvonne’s. 

“You know what you have to do,” Spencer says.

Yvonne pushes her sweaty hair back off her forehead and nods.

“I do.”

\---------------------------

She has Mona schedule an interview with the Observer for the following week.

Then she calls her ex-girlfriend from that night on the beach. 

She’s with the FBI.

\--------------------------- 

Election fraud is a federal crime, as it turns out. 

As is practicing medicine without a license under an assumed name.

Elliot Rollins is too soft for hard time. 

He confesses to a myriad of crimes in exchange for a lighter sentence at a nicer facility.

Yvonne and Spencer do the Observer interview together, discussing how it felt to be the targets of an elaborate blackmail scheme, and highlighting the importance of a fair electoral process.

They go out for drinks afterward at the Radley bar.

They toast to the not-so-good Doctor’s arrest. To their now ex-boyfriends, heading off to start a brewery together.

They spend the night together in the penthouse suite. 

After they have sex in the elevator.

\----------------------------

Spencer is looking out the window of the plane. 

The Feds seized a bunch of files from Archer Dunhill’s office. Some of which contained information about Spencer’s birth mother. A twin sister she never knew she had.

They’re in Europe somewhere. Maybe Prague. Maybe England. It doesn’t matter. She’ll find them. Now that she knows they’re out there, it’s just a matter of time.

Another passenger slides into the seat next to her.

“Is this seat taken?” Yvonne asks. 

Spencer can’t help smiling.

“I was planning to do this alone.”

Yvonne buckles her seat belt.

“You’re never alone.” 

She slides a pair of sunglasses on and lowers her voice. “And Europe is full of beaches.”


End file.
